


A Glorious View

by CarmillaCarmine



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Glory Hole, M/M, Smut, Suit Kink, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmillaCarmine/pseuds/CarmillaCarmine
Summary: It is what it says in the tags. Sherlock wears an amazing suit to a restaurant, thus making John extremely horny.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 66
Kudos: 306





	A Glorious View

John came back home to a fancy envelope lying as if displayed on the coffee table next to his armchair. One look at Sherlock who was glaring holes in it, told him that it was from Mycroft. 

“You didn’t open it?” he inquired, lifting his brow in amusement. 

“I want you to read it to me. I can’t be bothered to read what my brother came up with this time,” Sherlock announced, playing with the strings of his violin, as his knee bounced up and down. 

Indulging his flatmate, John tore into the letter to see a neat, black and white card. Silently, he read it over. 

“It’s just a dinner invitation from Greg and Mycroft,” John said placatingly.

“We’re not going,” Sherlock announced flatly.

“Hmm. Isn’t Chianti that fancy Italian restaurant in Soho?” John said with awe. It must have been hard to get a table there no matter how far in advance the booking had been. Then again, this was Mycroft’s invitation, and nothing seemed to be out of his reach. 

“Does it say when?” Sherlock looked up from his violin and set it aside gently, clearly interested.

“Next Saturday at eight,” John replied, piqued at Sherlock’s sudden shift.

“Fine. I’ll text him that we’re coming,” Sherlock waved his hand as if the “him” had some horrible disease. John frowned, analysing the words.

“I didn’t even tell you that I was on the invitation.” John sat on his chair, facing his flatmate.

“Who else would be there?” Sherlock scoffed, crossing his legs and taking his phone from the inner jacket pocket. 

“A plus one?” John shrugged nonchalantly.

Sherlock made a childish sputtering sound at that, and stuck his nose into his phone, tapping it furiously. 

To John’s utter embarrassment, he realised that he didn’t own a fancy suit, even though he’d been thinking of getting one for a while. Being a friend of Sherlock’s one never knew where he might end up. Chances varied from a skip to a fancy Italian restaurant. 

“I’ll have to get a suit for this occasion and I might need your help, Sherlock,” John admitted, willingly acknowledging Sherlock’s impeccable taste in formal wear. Sherlock didn’t reply, not even with a grunt, so John went to put the kettle on.

Sherlock had heard him loud and clear that day when the invitation arrived, because the next day there was a gorgeous dark-blue suit splayed on John’s bed in a black bag. Next to it, lay two pairs of socks, two pairs of black boxer-briefs and shiny loafers. 

John thanked his flatmate for the insane gesture, shoving money at him in repayment, but Sherlock would have none of it. It seemed like he now owed a debt to the great consulting detective.

-

The suit fitted John like a glove. A very expensive, very soft, very luxurious glove. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt a rush of excitement that, for once, he would have a chance to look this good next to Sherlock. Little did he know that Sherlock had purchased a new suit as well. 

The moment John saw it, he was unable to hold back his gasp and his ears pinkened in embarrassment. The charcoal-gray suit accentuated every feature of his flatmate’s impeccable figure and John had a looming suspicion that the evening might become harder to endure for him than he’d previously anticipated. 

He’d spent over a year denying his attraction to Sherlock. He’d been lying to the world and to himself. All his relationships had been doomed to fail since the moment he’d laid eyes on those sharp cheekbones, and inquisitive eyes that fateful day at Bart’s lab. When, just within a day, he’d found himself a changed man, looking forward towards the future that had seemed so bleak just days before, he’d known that there was no way back.

Unable to admit his attraction to his friend, who gave off the vibe of being absolutely not interested in him, nor anyone else, John ceased pursuing relationships with women as a first step to admitting to himself that he was absolutely besotted with a man. 

Today marked exactly three months since he had last had intimate relations with another person. Today was the day Sherlock looked more gorgeous than ever. 

John’s eyes got lost in the vee of Sherlock’s open collar, and he only snapped out of it when Sherlock announced that the taxi was waiting for them outside.

They made their way to the restaurant in silence, but John swore he could hear the hum of his libido when his knee brushed Sherlock’s in the tight confines of the cab.

John managed to make his way to the table and greet Mycroft and Greg, who’d announced their engagement a few weeks prior. Sherlock’s fit over that information had lasted only nine days, three broken teacups and four new holes in Mrs. Hudson’s wall.

Palms sweaty from the stress of avoiding looking at Sherlock’s exposed neck, John was unable to focus on the menu, and excused himself to go to the restroom.

The cold water he splashed his face with did nothing to cool him down. His head swam with images of Sherlock in the fancy suit that John had had the privilege of ogling in its entirety as he’d followed his friend into the restaurant. The fabric fitting tightly over Sherlock’s buttocks made John consider the possibility of the man had foregone wearing any underwear. That thought alone had made John’s trousers fit a bit too tightly in front.

John looked at his flushed face in the mirror, groaned, and went to sit on a closed lid in one of the stalls, locking the door. He had to get a grip before he’d embarrass himself before his friends. 

A soft sound of the door to the bathroom opening was followed by someone entering the stall next to his. It was only after John heard a knock on the nicely-painted plywood that he noticed it had a hole. A neatly cut out hole, just at the height that allowed…

No it couldn’t be. This was a fancy restaurant, there was no way it would have a place for strangers to hook up. And yet…

John swallowed hard. He remained unmoving, listening to the sound of trousers being opened on the other side. His heartbeat sped with a thrill of the unknown, a need for a new experience. Anonymous experience. He was about to shoot out of the stall in disgust at even considering partaking in such an abominable idea, when a nice, very pretty cock appeared in the hole. John’s excitement let itself be known in the hardening of his cock, and another spike of his heartbeat.

_ No no no, John what is wrong with you? No! _

John’s head said one thing, his body another. Riddled with lust, he watched as his own hand wrapped around the long erection right in front of his face. He felt a rush of heat in his abdomen, the same feeling he felt when he had sex with someone, but never when he wanked alone. 

Desperation drove him, and after he heard a low groan from the other side of the stall, he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave until he was done.

Exploring the stranger’s cock with his hand, he did what he usually had with his own. The angle was different, but he was still able to twist his wrist on the upstroke, eliciting more muffled noises from the other side.  _ Was the random stranger biting his fist or his lip? Was his hair dark and curly? Was he tall, lean, and gorgeous? _

The possibilities were endless, but John had an image of only one person in his mind. With the other hand, he opened his trousers and reached for his cock. 

“Oh God…” he moaned quietly when he squeezed two cocks separately, igniting even more heat in his abdomen. If he did the same to himself as to the stranger, he would be able to feel what the stranger felt, thus linking them in this bizarre session of pleasure. He stroked gently, then faster, as his need grew with every moan torn from the stranger’s throat. Mesmerised, he looked at the stranger’s cock in his hand, and somehow didn’t want this encounter to end with just a handjob.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and knelt on the tiled floor. Still holding the cock in front of his face, he looked at it, and decided that yes, he really wanted to do this. It was an absolutely crazy idea, as he wasn’t even sure if the other guy wasn’t riddled with STDs, but his doctor’s brain buzzed only for a moment longer before his lust and curiosity took over. The man must have sensed John’s hesitance, and in a whisper that made his voice unrecognizable, he said,

“I’m clean.”

That was enough. Closing his eyes, John opened his mouth and placed the smooth head of the cock on his tongue. It was warm and already wet with precome.  _ Ok, that tasted a bit weird.  _ He licked it anyway, and the sound that came from the stranger was worth licking twenty random cocks.  _ Would Sherlock make those sounds in the same situation?  _

Emboldened, John closed his lips around the crown then sucked gently sliding his mouth further along the shaft. It felt good and… empowering. The man on the other side was at his mercy, gently rocking into his mouth, silently pleading for more. The stranger liked it. Judging by the small lascivious sounds he was making, he liked it _ a lot. _

John sucked, bobbing his head, reaching into the memories of the blow jobs he’d received, as well as recollections of his medical knowledge. Within moments though, he didn’t need any of it anymore. Focusing solely on the present, he followed the moans that confirmed he must be doing something right. His left hand was constantly working his own cock with movements that grew more frantic with every second. 

Orgasm was looming over him, filling him with heat, and he made little wet noises around the cock. It worked like a gag, and he shamelessly slobbered around it as he chased his ecstasy. Eyes still shut, he imagined Sherlock in that charcoal-gray suit, and immediately spurted his seed on the partition wall in front of him. The strength of the climax took him by surprise, as his thighs shook and tears sprang to his eyes. 

The man on the other side groaned too and tried to retreat. John was familiar with the tactic, as he’d never asked anyone to swallow during their first time together either. However, he was on the other side now, and he desperately wanted to know the feeling. Determined, he held onto the cock with his hand and sucked faster. 

Not a moment later hot, sour spurts hit his throat.  _ Ew ew ew!  _

John gathered as much of the spunk into his mouth as he could, before he was unable to stand the taste and texture anymore. He lifted the toilet lid to sputter it all out, gagging slightly.  _ Dammit John, what an embarrassing conclusion.  _

“Mmm,” came a satisfied sound from the other side and John heard the man sit on the lid on the other side.

For a fleeting moment, John was tempted to look through the hole to see what the man looked like, but that would defeat the point of this encounter. 

“I’ll leave first,” John said, trying to make his voice deeper to conceal it, and managing it thanks to his throat being raw from the gagging. He righted his clothes and left the stall. In the mirror he looked better, albeit just as flushed as before. He splashed his face with cold water and left, trying to appear as if he hadn’t just sucked a cock of a stranger in the bathroom.

John came back to the table to see that Sherlock was missing. God, he felt dirty, but satisfied. His muscles weren’t as tense as before, his cock was finally at rest and he was able to focus on what he would like to eat. Suddenly, he realised that Sherlock would be able to tell, or at least suspect that something changed in John. Nevertheless, he sat at the table and hid his face behind the menu, happy that Sherlock was gone and wouldn't notice the satisfied expression on his face.

_ Wait… _

“Where did Sherlock go?” John asked as dread started to fill him.

“To the bathroom I guess,” Greg shrugged, looking over the options on the menu.

Cold sweat broke on John’s back, and he felt his eyes bulge, unable to control his expression. 

His eyes landed on Mycroft who sat with a judgemental smirk on his face as he sipped tea from a porcelain cup. 

_ Fuck.  _

John jumped at the sound of an incoming message in his pocket. Hurriedly, he fished the damn thing out, and clicked on the text.

“Consider your suit repaid. SH” 

It was the second time that day that John gasped out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comments! They mean a lot and keep me writing!  
>   
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> :)  
> If you enjoy happy and smutty stories like this one, check out my ["The Johnlock Utopia Series"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1256318)  
>   
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